Logan snuffed out a laugh. “I used your computer; I hope that’s okay. I printed off a Notice of Intended Marriage and I need your help to fill it in.
“Oh.” Hana’s eager smile disappeared. “Do you need Vik’s death certificate?”
“Nope.” Logan reached for her and wrapped her in a strong embrace, smirking at the monkeys on her shirt. “Just the date.”
“I can tell you that,” Hana breathed, the number engraved on her psyche.
“The office is open from nine until four, Monday to Friday,” Logan said. “So we either need to find a celebrant or take time off work.” His shoulders hunched in disappointment.
“What did you do before?” Hana asked, looking up at him.
Logan closed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. She did it all and had months to plan it. I want to marry you this week.”
Hana stroked his bic
